Waiting to Breathe
by Take this to Heart
Summary: Kendall/Camille with some Logan/Camille. "She's still standing in the water, not beckoning, not talking, just watching him, lips slightly parted and eyes alight with intrigue and intent. Intent to capture."


_a/n: I'm intending this to be a one shot. It's not really a T, but it might be a K++. I'm not sure... And I've been trying to get a multi chapter fic of Kendall/Camille going, but I have serious writer's block. UGH. It's so frustrating because I have some funny parts and some good parts, but I can't seem to find a way to tie everything together. ANYWAYS, sorry for my rant and I hope you guys enjoy this. There's a slight spoiler for the first episode of the third season, Big Time Returns, but nothing major. So, this is kind of different from anything I've written before for them. Tell me what you think! _

* * *

Kendall's sure he's going to get caught.

He doesn't do stuff like this. He doesn't sneak out of the house right under his mother's nose for no reason.

Sure, it would be a different story if he had to go find Carlos because he's lost somewhere by a Burger King and a Walmart, or had to go pick up a surprise Mother's Day present because he forgot until the last second, or if he had to make an emergency hair gel run because James had barricaded himself into the bathroom. In situations like those, Kendall had had no qualms about sneaking out. If he _had _gotten caught, the truth would have been a good enough way to explain his actions to his mother.

But this is different.

He's doing this for himself. No, actually, he's doing this for no reason. This makes it significantly harder to explain his actions if someone finds him, because there was no real way to explain them: he's just doing it. For no reason.

He really doesn't want to get caught.

His bed creaks as he rolls out of it, he bumps into a table (with a deafening crash) on his journey through the pitch black living room, and the sound _thunk _as he turns the lock on the door is like an alarm system in itself.

Any moment he expects his mother, red hair in a fiery swirl around her head to march out and demand where he thinks he's going at this time of night.

Or worse, Logan to wake up and question him, because he's always been a freakishly light sleeper.

He reconsiders and decides his mother would be worse than Logan. Maybe it's because he never really had a father, but Kendall has always been a "momma's boy" and he knows with that with one of her stern looks, he'd crumble like a cookie and beg for forgiveness. He has a reputation for being fearless and wild, but that doesn't really apply with his mom. With Logan, he could dance around the truth a little bit, because for a smart guy, he was really dense sometimes.

But preparing for either one of these situations has Kendall seriously worried about his ability to explain his actions to anybody, when he can't even really explain them to himself.

In short, he has no idea why the hell he agreed to go against every good fiber in his being and sneak out. _For no reason._

Miraculously, without anyone catching him, he slips out of of the apartment, the hallway eerily silent except for some muted noises from a TV show in the room across the hall. He tiptoes down the hall, still expecting someone to pop out and throw a net over him and toss him back into his bed. He feels strangely vulnerable without his best friends at his sides. It makes him feel cold, and he shivers slightly, as his shadows dance among the stationary ones of mounted lamps and fake plants.

He's the only thing alive in the whole place. Everything is either flattened carpet or cold elevator metal or silent arm chairs.

And then he sees her.

She's like a creature of the night, pale and glowing in the dark depths of the Palm Woods pool.

He doesn't know why she's been smiling at him more lately or why she invited him for smoothies _or _why she whispered for him to meet her here at three o'clock in the morning.

Well, he has an idea, but he's been trying not to think about it, and frankly, right now he doesn't care.

She's absolutely bewitching as she glides through the water, flirting as effortlessly with the water as she does with him. Somehow she's not making any noise as she flows under the surface, and Kendall is rooted to the spot, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night, not wanting to alert her to his presence yet, because then she might become Just Camille and he'll be Just Kendall.

He likes the mystery and the intrigue and the way he can't take his eyes off the way her gleaming ivory skin contrasts with her onyx black bikini.

She breaks the surface of the water with a shuddering gasp, like she can't draw enough air into her lungs, like she's stayed under water for as long as humanly possible just to make sure she's still alive. Suddenly she seems to be rising up, rising out of the water like a beacon. She's soft and magical, emanating a gracefulness he never knew her to posess, and suddenly she freezes, her eyes seeking him out in the darkness, a half smile sidling its way onto her face.

He raises a hand in a sheepish welcome, feeling inadequate in comparison to her unadulterated beauty.

He always wondered why a girl so confident, so clever, would have to resort to violence to gain respect. Most of the people at the Palm Woods knew her because they knew of her infamous slaps, of her unpredictable screaming matches and uncomparable kisses. Logan had had the pleasure of experiencing all of these, and Kendall had had his fair share of slaps, but something had always nagged at his mind.

When Camille couldn't be eccentric, there was always this wierd, awkward edge to the things she did. She came to a party one time as Logan's date, and instead of making a scene, she sat at the table with them and forced her red satin lips to smile. She seemed at ease enough but she didn't hold a conversation for more than a few sentences and she kept tapping her fingernails against her glass and clicking her heels against the ground, and for the last half of the party she was tensed on the edge of her seat. Yeah, she still smiled and laughed, but Kendall figured she didn't want to be there, in a seat. She wanted to be there to be the one the party was celebrating.

She _liked _being the center of attention, and knew no other way to get it (although Kendall has to admit, her current method is working fine).

And now, when everyone else is asleep, she doesn't even have to _try_ to get his attention.

Even if Kendall had _wanted _to (which he didn't) there was nothing for him to look at, to focus on, other than Camille and her ridiculous, feminine beauty previously unknown to him.

She opens her mouth and Kendall half-expects a siren song to come pouring out, swirling around in his ears to paralyze his brain and draw him closer, nearer, into her clutches where she would never let go.

Instead of this bizarre fantasy, two real words pop out.

"You came."

He nods, because he can't do anything else and takes a small step forward.

Suddenly everything is black; the sky, the pool, his heart.

The shadows start solidifying, and he sees Logan and his mother and Logan again, swaying in and out of the darkness, personifying his guilt.

He doesn't know why Camille has chosen him, or why he's letting her choose him, because Logan and her were basically magnets. At times they repelled each other, and at times they drew in each other's affections. And it never failed that they always found a way back together. Kendall would walk in the apartment after a long day at the pool and want to change into some dry clothes, but his door would be locked, and he'd have to pound on it for what seemed like forever until Camille came stumbling out with smeared lipstick, and he'd think _okay, they're back together again_. And then Logan would be moping, and Kendall would know they'd broken off whatever wierd relationship they had going again. Camille and Logan would, without a doubt, be back together within the next week, so Kendall had no plausible reason why he was meeting her other than that he had lost his mind.

He wonders if she _has _somehow sent out a silent siren call that's making him lose his deeply engrained sense of right and wrong; if she's actually some mystical succubus of the water instead of just an aspiring actress. Her life _had _always seemed too dull for her personality.

Everything is wrong, but his desire is too strong. He wants, he needs, to know what her kisses feel like, how her nails would scratch his skin, what it would sound like for _his_ name to fall from her lips instead of his best friend's. Not just because Jo isn't returning any of his messages in New Zealand and Lucy's messing with his brain with her stupid Dust Winks, but because he just needs a simple kiss born out of passion, out of the desire to be close to someone.

And also because he's lost his mind.

He knows that with Camille, nothing is simple. He knows that once he starts kissing Camille, it will be very difficult to stop.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to care.

She's still standing in the water, not beckoning, not talking, just watching him, lips slightly parted and eyes alight with intrigue and intent. Intent to capture. Intent to kill.

Everything is dark, but she's still luminescent; the unknown star outshining the brightest star in the sky, captivating Kendall, stealing his attention, even though he knows, in his heart that he shouldn't do this to Logan. He couldn't do this to Logan.

He shouldn't want her this much.

He couldn't want her this much.

And yet, he still moves closer.


End file.
